


Double Vision in Rose Blush

by lovethatwewerein



Series: 'Cause Baby It's You [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, They are still OCs and I am telling their story, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethatwewerein/pseuds/lovethatwewerein
Summary: There’s always been something magical about Christmas in her house, a tree that reaches so high that neither she or her dad can reach, wreaths littered with berries on every door, carols echoing between her and her dad while Eli watches them with adoration. It transforms into something beautiful, pinewood and gingerbread overtaking her sense as soon as she walks through the door.
Relationships: Charlotte Smythe/Tracy Anderson
Series: 'Cause Baby It's You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053707
Kudos: 3





	Double Vision in Rose Blush

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Gold Rush' by Taylor Swift.

There’s always been something magical about Christmas in her house, a tree that reaches so high that neither she or her dad can reach, wreaths littered with berries on every door, carols echoing between her and her dad while Eli watches them with adoration. It transforms into something beautiful, pinewood and gingerbread overtaking her sense as soon as she walks through the door. 

“I’m home,” she yells over the sound of the radio, slipping her shoes onto the rack beside the door and hanging her coat. She has an order to most things, a routine she follows to keep herself grounded, and they’ve all adopted it over the years. It’s helped her adjust to Dalton, make the most of being there, and she’s grateful for it. 

There’s a call of, “In the kitchen,” and she follows the sound, the scent of some pasta dish that they’ve had too many times to count and she still doesn’t know the name of. Blaine is at the hob, humming along to the song that’s playing and he smiles over his shoulder when she walks into the room. 

“How was school?” 

“It was good,” she says, running the tap for a glass of water. “We rehearsed and I passed my physics exam. We’re throwing a Sadie Hawkins dance.” 

He chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corner. She grabs a spoon, dipping it into the sauce despite the mock glare it earns her. “Did I ever tell you about my Sadie Hawkins dance?” 

He has, both of them, but she knows which one he’s talking about. Still though, there’s too many fun stories from her dad’s McKinley years that she’s open to hearing them again. “About how you almost kissed Aunt Tina because you had a crush on Uncle Sam?” 

“That’s the one,” he nods, the radio switching to some Springsteen song that only her Pop really knows all the words to. It’s a shame, most of the time, that he’s the most normal of them all. “I still can’t believe they ended up married.” 

They were both there at the wedding, Blaine beside his best friend with a smile and anxiously waiting for his other best friend to appear at the end of the aisle, treading on petals Tracy had scattered beforehand. It was a beautiful ceremony - short and sweet in a way she always dreamt her own could be - and singing with her dad for Sam and Tina’s first dance is still one of her fondest memories. 

“You love them,” she rolls her eyes, sitting herself on the counter. Like this, she’s slightly taller than him and it always makes her chuckle how tiny they both are. “When’s Pop home?” 

“He should be back in about an hour so you ought to clean up while I finish this.” 

“Are you saying I’m a mess?” she teases, rustling his curls before she leaps off her pedestal with grace. He taps her gently on the shoulder with the back of his hand, earning a laugh as she makes her way upstairs. “You should look in the mirror.” 

*

Part of her always transforms when she steps onto the stage, front and centre of a performance. It’s the same as her dad described his time on Broadway, an intense feeling of belonging that filters every thought from her head except the lyrics and the choreography. The stage lights and the audience eagerly awaiting each note about to come out of her mouth. 

Still though, in every performance, something is different. No matter how many times they rehearse, however many people they perform in front of, each includes minuscule changes that light a fire inside her until she’s panting with a wide smile, the lights reflecting off her lenses. 

The Dalton Christmas Concert means more to her than any show choir competition probably ever would, the unity and family that appears warming her as she tries to catch her breath. They run through Rocking Around The Christmas Tree, Stacey stepping out to sing Santa Baby before she and Jeremy take on Baby, It’s Cold Outside with a final flourish. 

Her dads are in the audience, somewhere, probably cheering as loud as they possibly can mixed amongst the student body. There’s donors, big names like the Montgomery's and Harwood's, and Crawford girls that she’ll recognise in passing but she can’t make them out in the haze just yet. Knowing that they’re there is enough. 

When the show is done, the Warblers trailing out from behind the curtain to chattering after rounds of applause, she’s grinning - a smile that won’t fade for hours at least, maybe days. Her dads are probably waiting for her, Nick and Jeff with them so they can tell her she’s great and maybe sometimes she really is. But there’s a tap on her shoulder first and she turns around. 

“Hey,” Charlotte Smythe says as soon as she’s facing her way, a shoulder resting against the wall behind her. She’s not in her uniform - it’s the holidays and school is out for the time being - but the denim jacket suits her just as well as the blazer normally does. “You were great out there.” 

She flushes, ducking her chin so she can hide it better. It’s a sudden change, from the confident person she was a minute ago on stage to the blushing mess she becomes when a pretty girl talks to her. “The Warblers are a team.” 

“I know,” Charlotte smirks, pushing off the wall as her eyes focus on something behind Tracy. “But you’re their star. Don’t forget it.” 

And then she’s gone, nudging against an older man in a similar jacket. There’s a smile, a quick wink back at Tracy before she disappears in a mass of teenagers and their parents. They don’t really talk, aren’t friends or much to one another at all, but whenever they do she’s left a mess, stuttering over her words until something snaps her out of it. 

“You doing okay, sweetie?” Her pop asks her, her dad tucked underneath his arm with a massive smile stretched across his face. “Who was that?” 

She shakes her head, clearing the interaction for another day. “Just someone that wanted to tell me they enjoyed the show.” 

Her dad nods, something a bit like disbelief in his eyes before it vanishes, replaced by pride as they wrap her in a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr.


End file.
